“Of course not! We don’t even know her!”
“Something’s going on here, Emma.” I was losing my composure. “Someone broke into my house and left a dead rat in my fridge! A wasps’ nest was placed in my trash can and my son was badly stung. My family is being tortured and harassed and I need to know why!”
“We had nothing to do with that,” she snapped back.
I rocked back on my heels in surprise. I had her. She’d admitted it. I kept my voice as steady as I could. “So, Paul did bite Chanel?”
She didn’t speak, but I could see the muscles tensing in her jaw. Finally, she said, “No. He didn’t.” Then she wrenched down the collar of her T-shirt, revealing the top of her breast. “He bit me.”
The injury was basically healed, but the tissue was permanently damaged. The indents would leave a nasty scar. “My god, Emma. You should call the police. Is Paul upstairs? Don’t go back up there!”
She gave me a withering eye roll. “I asked him to bite me. And to choke me. The whole thing was my idea.”
“What? Why?”
“You treat me like crap,” she said, her pretty face contorted by hatred. “You’re always calling me at the last minute to cover for you. I asked you to introduce me to your wife, to tell her I was interested in interior decorating, but you wouldn’t. You just wanted me to keep staging your properties for peanuts.”
“I’ve always paid you.”
“You gave me a hundred bucks for staging the Hancock place. If your wife had done it, you’d have paid her a thousand.”
“Viv’s a professional.”
“You sold that place because of me. You know that. What was your commission, Thomas? Tell me.”
“I-I don’t remember.”
“It was twenty-five grand. I printed the contract.”
“So, you thought you’d blackmail me for the money?”
“Paul’s gaming company went under. The wedding is costing us a fortune. We just needed a little help to get us through a tough time. And then Leo sent me those photos of you acting like a disgusting frat boy,” she spat. “It was gross. It was sickening. You’re a married man.”
“I-I know,” I stammered. “I made a huge mistake.”
“Yeah, well, I thought you deserved to pay. So, I made Paul bite me. And grab my neck. I wore turtlenecks or scarves to work for weeks despite the heat.” She gave me a contemptuous look. “You didn’t even notice.”
“But Chanel had a tattoo.”
“Ever heard of Photoshop?”
“God, Emma. I thought… I thought you liked me. That we were a team.”
“Why would I like you?” She gave a humorless laugh. “You’re shallow, and selfish, and greedy. No one in the office likes you, Thomas. You’re a pompous jerk.”
Her words stung, because on some level, I knew she was right. I could have been more patient, more polite and grateful. I could have been more of a team player. But I’d been so wrapped up in my own life and my own problems.
All at once, her tone changed. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, suddenly sounding young and vulnerable. “Are you going to call the cops? Have me fired?”
I was still reeling from her revelation. I looked at her. “I… I don’t know.” And then my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and looked at the screen. It was my daughter.
“I have to take this,” I said.
Emma snorted, as if this was so typical of me. But I ignored her, spoke into the device. “Tarryn? Is everything okay?”
“No, Dad. It’s not okay.” There was noise in the background, traffic, and voices.
“What’s wrong?” I said, through the fear gripping my throat. “What happened?”
“We’re on our way to St. Vincent’s Hospital. You need to meet us there. Now.”
“Okay, I’m on my way. What the hell happened?”
Only then did I realize my daughter was crying. “It’s Eli,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “He’s been shot. By Mom.”
Viv
“WE JUST NEED to ask you a few questions,” the female police officer said. She was so young, so fresh-faced and healthy-looking. Her voice was calm, steady, an attempt to soothe me. But it wasn’t working.
“Is my son okay?” I demanded, my words breathless, hysterical. This couldn’t have happened. I couldn’t have shot Eli.
“He’s still in surgery,” she said, in that same monotone. “The doctor will talk to you soon. But right now, we need to know what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened!” I said, because it was true. “There was an intruder. I was so scared.” I thought about the dark figure moving toward me, the sheer terror that had filled me. But it couldn’t have been Eli. What had he been doing out there? And how could I not recognize my own son?
“How long have you had a weapon in your home?”
“Only a few days. We’ve been harassed for months.” I looked at this young woman, so serene and composed in the face of my nightmare. “We called you! You wouldn’t help us!”
“Calm down, Mrs. Adler.” I heard the hint of irritation in her tone. “Was the gun purchased legally, from a licensed firearms dealer?”
“Of course! I mean, I’m sure it was.… My husband would know.”
“He’s been contacted. He’ll be here soon.”
“Please,” I begged, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Let me be with my daughter.” Tarryn was alone, somewhere in this hospital. “I need to know my son’s going to be okay.”
“Did you have anything to drink tonight, Mrs. Adler?”
My chest tightened. “Just wine with dinner.”
“Any drugs?”
“I was—I took a sleeping pill.” The effects had long since worn off, decimated by the adrenaline coursing through my system.
“So, you were operating the firearm while under the influence of drugs and alcohol?”
Oh god, oh god, oh god. I dropped my head between my knees, anguished sobs ripping through me. Why had I picked up that gun? Why had I taken it downstairs and out into the night, when I was clearly compromised? Was I criminally responsible? Criminally negligent? But I didn’t care what happened to me. Because if Eli didn’t recover, I would not survive.
A warm, solid hand on my shoulder pulled me upright. Thomas. He was here. I stood and threw myself into his arms. He would hate me once he knew what I had done, but right now, I needed his strength and comfort.
“I’m here,” was all he said, over and over, as I bawled into his collar. “I’m here.”
After a moment, the officer cleared her throat. “Mrs. Adler, I need to—”
But Thomas cut her off. “Can’t you see that she’s in no state to be interrogated? Our son has been shot! He’s in surgery! She’ll talk to you when he’s stable.”
I looked up at him. When he’s stable, not if. I had to believe that.
“I’ll call my lawyer if I have to,” Thomas grumbled; then he took my hand, and led me back toward the waiting room.
Eli
I’D BEEN HOME from college for two weeks when I finally got up the courage to tell my parents that I was dropping out. Their reaction was exactly what I’d expected. My mom had whimpered like I’d just told her I had a terminal disease, but my dad had lost it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he’d said. But I couldn’t tell him that I was weak, a coward. I couldn’t tell him how I had stood by and let Drew Jasper be sodomized by my teammates. That I couldn’t go back to Connecticut, that I had to stay home and hide. They’d make it all worse. So much worse.
It was late now, almost midnight. The sky was black and starless, but a bright three-quarter moon cast an eerie glow on the silent streets. I’d been walking aimlessly since I stormed out of the house just after ten. I’d drifted far from home and my feet were starting to hurt. I knew I should turn around and head back. My parents would probably be asleep. But what if they weren’t? I couldn’t face them. I was still so fucking angry.
I reached a park, an
expanse of cool grass with a playground at one end, a skate bowl at the other. It was so quiet, so still, except for the soothing sound of wheels on pavement as a skater rolled methodically back and forth in the darkened bowl. I found a bench and sat, tipping my head back, face to the endless sky. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I wanted, had been taken from me. My entire existence felt so fucking pointless.
Pulling out my phone, I typed in Arianna’s name. I hesitated for a moment, thumbs hovering over the keys.… Would she want to hear from me? Would she even respond? I’d treated her like garbage, but I hadn’t meant to. I’d been young, pressured by my family, raised to think I could do better. It wasn’t my fault, not really. And now, I needed her. She was the only person who could help me through this. Arianna had always listened, had always cared.
I typed:
I’m sorry to text you so late. Can we talk?
I waited, eyes on the screen. Arianna’s response came quickly.
R U Okay?
Not really, I typed. I need you.
There was a long pause, and I knew she was processing my words. But I filled the void.
I’m dropping out of college and moving back home.
Something bad happened there. Something terrible.
I fucked up Arianna. I should never have broken up with you. I want to try again.
Please. Give me another chance.
And then I waited, watched the ellipsis as she typed back. Her message was short and to the point.
Eli, I’m sorry, but it’s over. It has to be.
I’m seeing someone else now.
A sob shuddered through my chest, but I tamped it down. I wasn’t going to cry; I had lost Arianna, for real, over a year ago. All I had lost now was the possibility of her. I felt jealous, frustrated, angry. My whole life had gone to shit, and it was my parents’ fault. They had convinced me to go to Worbey College, to leave Arianna behind, to become the man they wanted me to be. They didn’t care what I wanted; they never had.
And then I heard the clatter of the skateboard against the pavement, the clunky sound of a trick gone wrong. “Fuck.” It was a boy’s voice. I couldn’t see the kid—it was too dark, too far away. And then another sound came. Breaking glass.
I stood up and peered toward the skate bowl. I could just make out the figure in the distance. There was another shattering sound as he threw something at a small, squat building. It was a storage shed where the park workers kept their gardening equipment. At first, I thought he was breaking the windows, but the structure didn’t have windows. The kid was throwing glass bottles at it.
Something drew me over there—curiosity, I guess. He didn’t see me or sense my approach, so he was shocked when I spoke.
“What are you doing?”
He startled but recovered quickly. “What’s it to you?” he snapped. I saw the beer bottle in his hand, though he quickly hid it behind his back.
“Nothing,” I said, stepping closer. I saw the blondness of his hair in the moonlight, his fair skin. He looked a bit younger than I was, Tarryn’s age maybe. There was something familiar about him. Was he my sister’s friend? No… Tarryn only had two friends, and this guy wasn’t one of them. But I knew him from somewhere.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Why not?” He turned and hurled the beer bottle at the shed.
There was something satisfying in the senseless destruction, in watching the glass shatter. I saw the box of beer at the edge of the skate bowl. “Can I throw one?”
He stopped and looked at me for a second. “You’re Eli Adler.”
So, I did know this kid. But from where? “Who are you?”
“Finn Dorsey,” he said. “You wouldn’t remember me.”
“Where did we meet?”
But he didn’t answer. He reached into the box and handed me an empty bottle. “Go for it.”
I threw the bottle as hard as I could, watched it explode against the wood siding. I imagined it was my parents’ house, that they were asleep inside, startled and terrified by the sound. The thought made me laugh out, like a total psycho. But then I remembered that we were in a public park, that some kid could cut himself on the broken glass, that a park worker would have to clean up our mess.
I turned back to Finn. “My dad’s company barbecue, years ago. You were playing with my sister, Tarryn.”
“You have a good memory.” He handed me another a bottle, a full one this time. I cracked it open and took a drink.
“Want to do something for me?” I said. “I’ll buy you more beer. Or weed. Whatever you want.”
Finn took a drink of his beer and smiled. “Like what?”
“Something like this,” I said, indicating the broken glass next to the shed. “Except at a house. In Arlington Heights.”
“Whose house is it?”
“Mine.”
The boy laughed. “Wow. That’s—”
“Eli…? Can you hear me?”
A man’s voice was pulling me out of the memory, back to the present. But it sounded tinny and far away, and I didn’t recognize it.
“Eli, my name is Dr. Connelly. You’re in the hospital. You’ve just had surgery, but you’re going to be okay.”
What happened? But I couldn’t form the words. I was too tired, my mouth was dry, and a weight was pulling me back down, back under.
“Eli… you have a gunshot wound to your shoulder, but we were able to remove the bullet fairly cleanly,” the voice continued. “And you hit your head when you fell. You’re going to feel rough for a while, but you’ll get through this.”
Again I tried to speak, to ask what had happened, but the doctor was leaving, moving on to the next patient, the next injury. “Your family is here for you,” he said. “You just rest.”
And with his permission, I slipped back into darkness.
Tarryn
WE SAT BESIDE my brother’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. He was going to be fine, the doctor told us, though there could be some lasting damage to his shoulder. “Luckily, the bullet missed the brachial artery, or this could have been fatal,” he’d said.
My mom had broken down then and hadn’t stopped sniveling since. I was actually more worried about her than I was about Eli. Why weren’t they giving her a Xanax or something? She was so pale, and she was trembling all over. She clutched my brother’s hand, whispering, “You’re going to be okay, Eli. I’m so sorry.” She thought the whole thing was her fault. But it wasn’t.
“Mom, stop,” I said, when she pressed his hand to her forehead, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “Stop blaming yourself.”
She didn’t look up. And she didn’t stop crying. “I did this, Tarryn. It’s all my fault.”
“But why was Eli out there? Why was he wearing a mask?”
I saw the look that flashed between my parents. No one wanted to ask the question, because no one wanted to know the answer.
My dad spoke then. “It doesn’t matter what he was doing. I should never have bought the gun.” He squeezed my mom’s shoulder. “It’s my fault, too.”
“When did you buy it?” I asked.
His expression was pained. “I picked it up a few days ago. I thought it would keep us safe.”
My throat felt like glue as I swallowed. “Was it because you found the rat in the fridge?”
“Yes.” His face was so pale, it looked like wax. “That’s when I knew that all the lights and alarms couldn’t protect us. Someone got inside. Someone crept through our home while we slept. So… I got the revolver.”
“Then this is my fault, too.”
Mom looked up then, her confusion mirrored on my father’s face. I had to tell them. I had to explain.
“I turned off the alarm that night. And I left the window open.”
My mom gasped. “Tarryn, why?”
“I sneaked out. I was upset. At Dad, because of those photos. At my friends, for abandoning me. At my teacher…” I didn’t articulate my former suspicions about Mr
. McLaughlin, and I wasn’t about to tell them I’d gone to his house. “… for giving me a crappy grade. I just went for a bike ride. But I couldn’t go out the door or the cameras would have seen me. So, I went out the back window. Someone must have been out there, watching and waiting. They got into the house because of me.”
“No,” my mom said. “You are not to blame for this.”
Dad’s voice was firm. “Finding fault is not going to change anything. All that matters now is that we’re honest with each other. And we’re there for each other.”
But I wasn’t finished. My voice was small when I said, “There’s something else—”
A weak, groggy voice interrupted. “Way to make this all about you.”
It was Eli. He was awake! We all swarmed around him, gently touching him, patting him, or kissing him, in my mom’s case.
“You’re going to be okay, Son.” My dad’s voice was choked up. My mom sobbed, “I’m sorry, Eli. I didn’t know it was you.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom,” Eli said. “You have to let me explain.”
“Not now. You just rest.”
But he wouldn’t.
“A couple months ago, I asked Finn Dorsey to throw eggs at our house,” he said, his voice slow, slightly slurred. “I was so mad… about college. And Arianna. And everything… But then Finn got his friends involved and they wouldn’t stop. They took it too far. I knew you guys were falling apart.”
My parents’ eyes met over top of their son’s hospital bed, and I knew what they were thinking. So many secrets. So many lies. And so much anger. How had our family gotten so messed up?
Eli kept going. Maybe the anesthetic was acting like a truth serum. Or maybe he just couldn’t keep it all inside anymore.
“I went out there to talk to them. To tell them to stop. I didn’t want you to recognize me on camera, so I wore the mask.… I scared you, Mom.” He squeezed her hand weakly. “You were just trying to protect us. Anyone would have done it.”
My mom started sobbing again, her anguish filling the small room, likely carrying down the hallways. My dad and Eli tried to comfort her, but I stood back. Watching. We were all unburdening ourselves, all confessing our sins. But I realized I couldn’t tell them about my secret life, my alter ego. Not with my brother lying in a hospital bed, not with my mom overcome with guilt and self-hatred. It would be too much. It would tip them over the edge.
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